Bound for the Forest
Page 22
“But I must show my respect, my captain,” whispered Scarlet. “They’ve asked us to come to them, and I must tell them how magnificent they are. Shall we go?”
Brien grabbed his wrist, ensnaring it tightly. Scarlet tossed back his head and rattled out a laugh. Blue flames flashed in his eyes, Brien felt his pulse race like wildfire, and then Scarlet slipped from his grasp and through the dark wall of forest.
Brien followed him.
Love left him no choice.
NB: The folksongs are “Nonesuch” (Traditional), and “My Darling Ploughman Boy” (Scottish Bothy Ballad, Traditional) both adapted for the story by Kay Berrisford.
Other titles by Kay Berrisford
Available on Amazon (including Kindle Unlimited)
Bad Slave
Catching Kit
The Merman and the Barbarian Pirate
The Landlocked Heart Series
Coming soon:
Bound to the Beast
Lord of the Forest
Locking Horns
Simon, Sex and the Solstice Stone
Find them here:
Kay's Amazon page UK
Kay's Amazon page US
Kay's Amazon page Deutschland
Kay's Amazon page Australia
Kay's Amazon page Canada
Kay's Amazon page France
Please now scroll on for excerpts from Bound to the Beast and Bad Slave…
Bound to the Beast by Kay Berrisford (released February 2020).
"England, 1588. When a fairy betrothal ritual goes wrong, Tam finds himself bonded to Herne the Hunter. Warrior, legend, and Greenwood spirit, Herne once led the terrifying Wild Hunt, an army of the undead who rode as harbingers of doom.
Herne could be the dominant lover Tam secretly craves, but his past makes Tam fear Herne will only enslave or kill him. But all Herne wants is solitude, which means breaking the unwanted betrothal. But to do so, the pair must travel deep into the dangerous Greenwood, where mutual desire grows increasingly difficult to ignore, and the Wild Hunt bays for blood..."
Bound to the Beast is set in the same universe as Bound for the Forest. The books can be read in any order or as standalone stories.
Excerpt:
Tam couldn’t believe Herne had deserted him. Damn it, he longed for the beast more and more as the days stretched on. He missed his voice and his touch, both tender and rough, even his grumblings about vanity, and it proved impossible to deny Herne’s strength made him feel safer. With the huntsman near, he doubted he would have suffered those torturous dreams about the Hunt. In truth, even Herne’s stubbornness amused him as much as it irritated him. Herne was, in some ways, a little like him.
He sank his forehead into his hand, now well healed, as he considered what path might be safest through the forest. He noticed his bare feet were pressing into the spongy moss of the forest floor. When had he taken off his shoes?
No, this was not real; he had to be dreaming, although he had no recollection of growing sleepy. No breeze licked his skin, and he was naked.
He could sense Herne the Hunter, smell his earthy scent. But instead of a man, Tam stood beside an oak of massive girth, its branches heavily laden with acorns and bright, frilled leaves. His cock ached already, jutting out like the scabbard of a broadsword. He laughed softly, acknowledging to whom his body belonged. Fear didn’t keep him from running. This was why he lingered.
Pressing his back to the trunk, he stretched his arms high above him, as if awakening from a long rest. The bark felt rough, hard, scraping against his arse that tightened in anticipation. Then a stubby shoot prodded the small of his back, and he moaned, needful.
Herne. Fuck me, bind me, and mark me as yours.
The oak seized his wrists with thick stems of rough timber that contorted his arms back about the trunk, stopping just short of causing him pain. Woody snares about his ankles tugged his legs likewise, bending them at the knees to pull back around the tree. His cry caught in his throat, where his pulse pounded uncontrollably. He might be torn apart by this oak, this ungodly monster, yet these fetters set him rippling with delicious heat. A thick branch wrapped about his stomach, pressing him hard against the oak. He snatched a ragged breath.
Please fuck me. Please fill me.
As his senses screamed for penetration, he felt a thick wooden tendril creeping between his arse cheeks toward his entrance. He gasped, then bit his lip. Goddess, he wanted this…this beast…this spirit…this damned oak inside him.
“Herne! I’m yours.”
He cried out, nearly choking on a stab of bittersweet pain as the thick wood pressed inside, easing and opening him. “Yes,” he said, panting. “Yes.”
The wood felt smoother and slicker than he expected, the contact less tangible than the pain of his stretched limbs. He wriggled, thrusting his hips, straining toward the thick, penetrating member, but he could not incite the shattering power he craved. He clenched his teeth, willing the branch inside him to engorge, to thrust harder, to do something.
He felt a twist of torment shadowed by a moment when he hurtled toward ecstasy. His cock wept as the wood struck him deeply, his carnal being incinerated by the merest twinge of bliss—and then oblivion.
Tam opened his eyes. Still sagged against the pillar, he squinted across the garden, too bright even under the clouded sun. His cock still hard, his heart raced, and he felt slightly foolish. Herne the Hunter, for all his strangeness, was not a damned oak tree. What man would understand the strange mastery he wanted and still respect him?
A man with antlers that spread like an oak’s branches might.
He tugged his collar, pulling his sticky shirt from his skin, as he conceded one truth. If all else failed, he’d prefer to belong to Herne rather than die at the hands of foul spirits.
He hauled himself up, stretching stiff shoulders and limbs and finding his hopes sprang as lively as the bees on the lavender. He grinned at the prospect of seeing the brawny jolthead again, if just to rip his clothes off and demand he finish what the oak tree started. But no, he still prayed matters would not come to that.
However delicious their coupling might prove.
Bad Slave by Kay Berrisford (out now.)
"When the king commands former war hero Captain Jay Ghair to find him the perfect royal sex slave, Jay’s quiet new life as a librarian is shattered. Jay discovers the boy he’s looking for in Alix, a lowly miner and wannabe court scientist, whom Jay can’t help but secretly adore. However, teaching the rebellious Alix to be a docile slave is difficult. Alix will behave for just one man, and it isn’t the king. It’s Jay.
Standing by while the king’s treatment of Alix becomes cruel is torturous for Jay. He longs to return to his library, yet he can’t bear to leave Alix, or his people, unprotected. To rescue Alix--and save the realm from the increasingly tyrannical king--Jay must confront the demons of his military past and take up the sword again. But his most important battle must be won through returning Alix’s love and learning to master this bad slave who submits only for him."
Excerpt:
In this scene, the corrupt King Lyam has ordered Jay and Alix to "perform" for him.
Jay drew a long breath and blanked out everything save Alix waiting before him. He’d no need to adjust Alix’s clothing. Alix’s skimpy loincloth left the buttocks exposed. The taut sinews in his slender limbs quivered, and whether deliberately or not, the boy waggled that rounded arse. Jay had wondered as he’d walked in if he would ever be able to achieve erection amid this den of whooping jackals. It wasn’t going to be a problem. Beneath the veil of his thong, his cock jerked. Alix’s charms were potent indeed, but he refused to jump the boy like an animal. He touched Alix’s shoulder, then turned him around and drew him up. Confusion flashed in Alix’s brown eyes. Jay cupped Alix’s face and stole a kiss.
He licked the seam of Alix’s lips, and with a moan, Alix yielded and invited Jay inside. Jay cherished the glide of Alix’s tongue against his. He plundered deeper
into the moist heat, which tasted faintly of wine and succulently of Alix, and couldn’t get enough. Burying his fingers in Alix’s short hair, he worked the contact between them as if his life depended on it. Maybe somehow it did. Alix’s too, though no apprehension could ruin this moment. So much time had passed since he’d kissed another. He’d forgotten it could be so good—or maybe it’d never been this way. Alix reciprocated his attentions with increasing energy, as if nobody else were present.
Alix enfolded arms about his neck, and Jay crushed Alix to him, his burgeoning erection pressing against Alix’s middle. Alix’s answering arousal, solid against his thigh, afforded him a cautious trickle of joy that their audience’s rhythmic claps couldn’t dilute. He broke the kiss and fixed on Alix’s eyes.
Alix dabbed swollen lips. “I’ve never been kissed before.”
Oh gods.
The admission unhinged Jay in a fashion he couldn’t comprehend and boosted his sense of protectiveness—and possessiveness. He pushed the part of him that roared with fury to the back of his mind and reclaimed Alix’s lips, relishing and devouring, then littered loving nips on the lad’s smooth face and chin, meandering down Alix’s throat, savoring Alix’s panting, the racing pulse. All the armies in the world couldn’t force him to take Alix carelessly…
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